The Princess, the Girl, and the Duck
by nicnac918
Summary: Wherein a princess helps save a kingdom, a duck learns the secrets of the heart, and a young woman finds a place to call home, roughly in that order.


**Once upon a time…**

There was a little duck that lived in a small pond on the grounds of a great castle. Though the duck was, at the moment, nothing more than a mere duck, she was possessed of a large and kind heart, and many of those who lived in the castle named her among their friends. Anyone with troubles could go to her and find no judgement, only wide compassionate eyes and sometimes a soft feathered head on their lap that they could pet and take comfort in. All who visited her felt better and more confident in themselves, and the duck, for her part, found she was never short on bread or other tasty things to eat.

Though the duck had a caring thought and a hopeful wish for all who sought her out, her most fervent desire was to help the prince, who had a kind face and such lonely eyes. The prince bore not only the small personal burdens that everyone who visited the duck did, but also the burdens of kingdom that was constantly being beset upon by vicious crows and ravens, and the burden of a heart that had been broken when his princess, whom he had known since childhood and loved very dearly, had been stolen away by the very same ravens. The little duck could do nothing to ease his burdens – she had no sword to fight with and no crow was interested in the pleadings of a duck – so she did what could to ease the weight of them on his heart, in the hopes that she might one day see him smile.

One day the prince came to the duck, his raiment that of a warrior and his expression one of resolve. "This may be the last time we see each other little duck," he told her. "Today I leave to do battle with the leader of the ravens and the crows, a monster who dwells deep in the forest at the kingdom's border. Do not fear for me, for I will not face this challenge alone; I am bringing along my most trusted knight and dearest companion, and I hold much hope for our victory. I do have a favor to ask you before I go, however." The prince kneeled down before the duck, perhaps to underscore the sincerity and urgency of his request. "It is said that the monster raven wishes to devour my heart because he believes doing so will make him immortal. I do not know if that is true, but I do know there's no magic as strong as that which lies in our hearts, so I cannot take the chance. And so I ask you, who has guarded so many secrets of my heart before, to hold on to one more small piece for me until I get back. And should I come back inside the belly of that beast, I ask that you fly as far and as fast as you are able, to rob him of his chance at immortality, in the hopes that one day the world may yet see him vanquished. Will you do this for me, little duck?"

The duck nodded in response, for she had no greater wish than to help the prince in any way that she could. At her acquiescence, the prince stood again and drew his sword, pressing the tip of it to his breast. When he pulled it away, a necklace with the shining red pendant emerged from his chest. He placed the necklace around the duck's neck and said, "Thank you, for all you have done and all that you will do for me." Then, with the look of grim resignation he turned and left.

Had the prince lingered only a moment longer, he would have been amazed to see what happened next. The pendant began to glow brighter and brighter, becoming almost blinding in its intensity before, just as suddenly, it stopped. When the light faded, the little duck was gone, and in her place stood a beautiful princess. The princess looked at herself and marveled for it seemed that what the prince had said was true; there was no magic stronger than that which lies within our hearts, and furthermore, there was no heart stronger than one as true as the prince's.

The princess who had been a duck found herself in a conundrum. Before she been content to wait for the prince's return, because there had been nothing else she could do. But now there surely must be some way that she could help the prince, even if she still did not have a sword to fight with, and crows were no more likely to listen to a princess than they were a duck. There were other ways help than fighting, and if something that the princess could do offered the prince some small amount of support in his quest to defeat the monster raven, then that would be all she could wish for. Thus resolved, the princess found a dark cloak to hide her elegant white dress, and stole after the prince and his knight.

The princess found that her magic pendant allowed her feet to travel as swiftly as a bird might fly, and so she quickly caught up to prince and passed him, going ahead the town at the edge of the dark forest where the prince was likely to stop for the night. That way she could find a place to hide where she could watch the prince, but he would not see her and so could not send her back to the castle. However, when she got to the town she found the villagers' hearts had been hardened by the constant raven and crow attacks, and they blamed the prince for not protecting them better. The princess reached out the villagers using the kindness and understanding she had had as a duck and the beauty and grace that the prince's heart had gifted her with to convince them of the prince's goodness and his desire to help all the people. Slowly, she began to win them over, and by the time the prince and his knight had arrived, the villagers rejoiced in their coming and eagerly offered the prince anything he could need for his fight against the monster raven. And thus it went at each town the prince visited, the princess easing his way.

Soon, as they traveled deeper into the forest, they came across a village being attacked by the ravens. The prince and the knight were able to fend the birds off, but not before people were hurt. While the prince might wish to do something for the injured, his mission was too urgent to allow him to stay in one place any longer than he already had. But the princess knew she was fleet of foot enough to stay and help the wounded, and still reach the next village before the prince and the knight. Her compassion eased the hearts of the injured, and the magic in her fingers eased their physical hurts, all of which she did in the name of the prince. And thus it went each time the ravens attacked, the princess easing the prince's way back.

Eventually the prince had gone so deep into the forest that there were no people left, only trees and darkness and a few scattered animals. That deep into the forest, food and water were sometimes so hard to find out the prince and his knight often worried that they might have to go without. Indeed, one day when their water skins were empty, they found neither stream nor spring nor pond nor lake to refill them with. Seeing their plight, the princess and called out to all the birds nearby until one tiny songbird replied that he knew of a place where the prince might be able to refill his water skins and offered to show him the way to it. Even the other birds did not care much for the ravens and crows. And thus it went each time prince and knight ran out of supplies, the princess enabling them to continue forward.

After many long days and nights of traveling, the prince and the knight, and the princess following just behind them, finally found the deepest, darkest part of the forest, where the monster raven lived. The knight drew his sword to do battle with the monster raven. But the knight, though filled with bravery, was still young and brash and his sword mostly untested, and the monster raven was old and cunning and strong. So, when the knight attempted to attack, the monster raven cut him down without the knight landing a single blow.

Upon seeing her dear prince's dearest friend struck down, the princess could no longer stand to hide in the shadows; indeed, the time for such a thing had passed. The princess cried out, then rushed to kneel down beside the knight and take him in her arms. Two tears sprung from the princess's eyes, one from the right and one from the left, and rolled down her cheeks. They fell into the knight's wound, and caused it to seal closed. The knight remained conscious long enough to get out a few mumbled words of gratitude before succumbing to a healing slumber.

The princess placed the knight on the ground and looked up to see the prince guarding them from the monster raven's fierce attacks. Though the princess could see the determination in him, she saw nothing of the hope that he had spoken of that day at castle so long ago, and without hope the prince could not possibly win. The princess called out to the prince, speaking to him of all the people they had seen and the confidence they had in him, and when that did not seem enough, she spoke of her own faith in him, and her love for the prince. Though the prince seemed somewhat bolstered by her words, his expression it was still as grim as resigned as it had ever been on their journey, and the princess despaired of her words ever being able to reach him.

She clutched at her necklace and found that the pendant was warm beneath her fingers, and when she looked, it was letting off a soft warm glow. The princess, in a sudden burst of inspiration, realized that since the prince gave her this piece of his heart so that his people might have hope of defeating the monster raven if he should lose to it, the pendant in her hands likely held all of the prince's hope within it and without it, he had none. Now certain of what she must do, it was only with barest hesitation that the princess removed her necklace, returning the heart shard to the prince, and herself to being merely a duck once again.

The prince began fighting with renewed vigor, dealing the monster raven blow after blow, until he finally struck it in the heart, splitting the monster raven in two. The duck watched in wonder as the forest around seem to grow just a bit brighter in the absence of the monster raven's evil, even as the prince collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Elated at their victory, the little duck approached the prince. Perhaps now that there was no enemy to vanquish, the prince would be willing to part with just a small piece of his heart for her sake, so that she could stay by his side as a princess for all their days.

When she got close, however, she saw that the prince was not kneeling on the ground due to exhaustion, but so he could cradle a beautiful young woman in his arms, one that must have emerged from inside the monster raven when the prince had cleaved it in two. The young woman looked up at the prince with awe and affection shining from her eyes, and the prince smiled back at her with such joy that the duck did not even need to hear him say her name to know that this young woman must be the dear princess that the prince had lost. Seeing the two of them together with such love shining from them, the duck found that she could not bear to ask either of them for even the smallest piece of their heart. And so the duck bid a silent good-bye to the prince and his companions, and left.

The duck flew much farther and much longer than she ever had before, and eventually came to rest in the city many miles from the kingdom she had come from. There she came across a baker that laughed in fond amusement at the sight of a duck outside his door, and shared with her some of his best bread. His kindness caused the little duck to wonder if, while there were perhaps no other hearts as the magical as the prince's and capable of turning her into a princess, might there not be some with the power to turn her into a normal human girl? And while the prince had no need for another princess, surely the little duck could stay by his side as a friend.

The duck watched the baker all day and became sure that his kind heart, should he be willing to share it, would have the power to turn her back into a girl. But before she could approach to ask if he would be willing to do such a thing for her, though truthfully the duck was uncertain he she would communicate such a request when she could no longer speak, a woman who could not be called pretty, but had a very kind face, and a rambunctious little boy walked into the baker's shop. The baker greeted his wife and his son, for that was who they must have been, enthusiastically. He picked the boy up into his arms and gave his wife a kiss that, though quick and chaste, spoke of deep and lasting commitment. Seeing the love that the baker had for his family, the duck found that she could not bear to ask him for even the smallest piece of his heart, and so she once again bid a silent good-bye and left.

The next place the duck stopped was a sleepy little village with a river running through it. Alongside the banks of the river, the duck met and old widow who, happy for some company, regaled the duck with many stories of the long and full life she had lived. Upon hearing the old widow's stories, the duck thought that surely someone such as this, with most her life behind her, would be able to find a small piece of her heart to lend to a young duck with much of her life yet to live. And so the duck followed the old widow when she stood and left the riverside, thinking of the best way to ask her for such a thing. The old widow slowly walked back into the town, to church and the cemetery behind it. There she knelt down at the gravestone of her former husband, who had departed from this life some three years past. When the duck saw the love and devotion that the old widow had for her husband even now, the duck found that she could not bear to ask for even the smallest piece of her heart, and so she once again bid a silent good-bye and left.

And so it went for many years, the duck traveling from place to place, looking for someone who might have a piece of heart to spare. The duck met a great many people, some of them brave and loyal, steadfast and kind, intelligent and compassionate, bursting with life and generous of spirit, and all with hearts so full of love that the duck could never bear to ask for even the smallest piece for her own selfish needs. And in time the duck came to realize that such a thing could not be asked for; the gift of heart must be one that was freely given, or not at all. And as she was merely a simple little duck once again, it seemed impossible that such a gift would ever be given to her. So she made up her mind to return to the land where she had been born, to spend her days content in being what she was.

The duck settled on a great lake on the northern edge of the kingdom where she was born. She made her home in the reeds alongside the western side of the lake, a half day's flight from the nearest town and near a single lonely cottage. At this cottage lived man, still in his prime though he appeared to have left the rashness of youth behind him some years ago, who spent his days out on the dock, fishing from the lake and writing stories. The two of them did not speak to one another, the duck because she could not and the writer because he did not seem to be the type to feel the need for idle chatter. Instead, they often just sat in silence and enjoyed the peace of the lake, but the duck found the writer to be the perfect companion, all the same.

A month and day after the duck had come to the lake, the writer spoke to her for the first time, "I have never met a duck that was such a faithful companion before, though I had heard of one in the place where used to live. Is there anything I can do for you, little duck, to thank you for keeping me company?" The duck said nothing in response, for even if she could speak, there was nothing that she wanted that she had any right to ask for. The writer laughed a little and shook his head at himself. "Of course, even if there was something that you wished for, you'd have no way to make it known to me, since as a duck you're incapable of speech. I have heard it said that there's magic in the human heart that accomplish incredible things, perhaps even turning a duck into a person if she's granted a small piece. I wonder if that's true?" The writer who, as a writer, was well-practiced at observing the subtleties in the world, noticed the rekindling of a dead hope in the duck's eyes and immediately apologized. "For you see," he explained, "even if a heart such as mine were capable of that, I no longer have it to give away. Many years ago, I gave it to a woman who must not have ever wanted such a thing from me, for she already loved another. And when the one she loved found his own beloved, she disappeared to place where no one could find her, so even if I wanted my heart back, I have no way of asking her."

The duck, hearing the undercurrents of sorrow in the writer's voice, flew up to sit on the dock and pressed her small feathered body against the writer's leg to offer him what comfort she could. "You must understand that I was not always as you see me now," the writer continued. "Once, a very long time ago, though perhaps not as long ago as it seems, I was the prince's most trusted knight and dearest companion, and I fought alongside him against the monster raven." The duck's eyes widened as she realized why the lines of the writer's face seemed so familiar to her, that he was indeed the same knight that she had saved all those years ago. "But what only a very few know is that he and I were not the only one who undertook that quest. There was a princess who journeyed with us, though she was careful to stay either just before or just behind us, keeping out of sight. But the princess only had eyes for the prince, so she didn't notice that I had seen her and was watching. At first I was only watching her for the sake of the prince, to be sure she meant him no harm, but soon I found myself watching her solely because of my own desire. The princess was filled with such hope and optimism, the likes of which I had never seen before or since, and she appeared to care not just for the prince, but for all the people. She even cared for me in her way, for when the monster raven struck me down, she held me in her arms and even cried for my sake. That was the moment I gave my heart to her, but she disappeared soon after that, and I doubt she ever knew it."

The duck looked at the writer, filled with amazement that such a thing could be in her possession all along and her not even know it. It seemed impossible, and yet in her heart the duck could sense the truth of the writer's words. No sooner than that had happened, the duck began to change. In an instant the duck found that she was once again no longer merely a duck, but she was not a princess either. Whereas the prince heart, with its soft and warm red glow full of his hope for all the people of his kingdom, had given her an ethereal sort of beauty and grace, the writer's heart, which appeared as a simple silver chain with a small charm in the same blue as the color of her eyes, turned her into a young woman who was still possessed of great beauty, but a more straightforward and earthly sort that made her seem more real than princess ever had.

Then was the writer's turn to stare in amazement, a luminescent blush slowly creeping across his cheeks. For though he had long wished to find the young woman to whom he had given his heart away, so that he could tell her of his feelings, and had searched many years for her after she disappeared, even good things can be quite disconcerting when one is not expecting them.

The young woman offered the writer a curtsy. "Thank you for this marvelous gift," she said. "And I feel I must offer you an apology as well; that I had such a precious thing and not realized it… I would understand if you wanted to have it back."

"No!" The writer said. "It was a gift freely given. It is yours to keep, and I need nothing in return."

"But surely there must be something I can do for you," the young woman objected. She understood the value of what she had been given, perhaps even more so than the writer did, despite the fact that it was his own heart that hung from the chain around her neck, and she could not take anything so precious without offering at least some small token of gratitude in return.

The writer hesitated and then said, "I know you probably wish to go back to castle and return to the prince's side. But the prince will come out this way himself on the first day of spring. I only ask that you wait until then to return with him; it has been a long time since I've seen my heart, and I am reluctant to part with it again so quickly."

The young woman agreed eagerly. The eight months it was until the first day of spring was not, after all, so very long a time, especially not in comparison to the gift she had been given.

The writer had been correct when he said that the princess who had been a duck had had eyes only for the prince. As such, the young woman remembered very little about the knight who had traveled at her prince's side and would eventually become a writer, aside from his bravery and his sharp tongue. So, in that first month that the writer and the young woman shared the cottage together, she asked him to tell her a great many tales about his time with the prince, both in the hopes of learning about a side of the prince that she had never been privy to in her small pond on the castle grounds, and to learn about her temporary host. He obliged her, and his voice rang were admiration and affection when he talked about the prince, despite having left active duty as a knight sometime before. In that way, the young woman learned of the writer's loyalty.

In their second month together, the young woman insisted on learning how to perform the household chores, to help as much as she was able. Unfortunately, the young woman, unlike the graceful princess she'd once been, was very clumsy and often ended up doing things wrong. The writer, who was hardly the most patient of souls, would in turn often get frustrated and speak harshly with her. And yet the next day he would offer to help her learn again, and again and again and again, until finally she was able to do it right. In that way, the young woman learned of the writer's steadfastness.

In their third month together, the young woman went into town with the writer. There she met a group of young boys, all eager to join the prince's army when they grow up. The boys pestered the writer, who had once been the prince's most trusted knight and dearest companion, to teach them so they might be better prepared. Rather than unleashing his sharp tongue on the boys, as the young woman half-feared he would, the writer offered, admittedly somewhat gruffly, the boys advice and encouragement before sending them on their way with eager smiles on their faces. In that way, the young woman learned of the writer's kindness.

In their fourth month together, the young woman's persistent pleas finally paid off, and the writer let her read some of the stories he had written. She found herself enthralled by them, and the way they seemed to take her to far off places to go on daring adventures and meet exotic people. Soon she began to read and reread every scrap of paper the writer let her see. In that way, young woman learned of the writer's intelligence.

In their fifth month together, the young woman was in the cottage cooking dinner when the writer burst in the door holding a rabbit with a broken leg. The writer claimed that he had only brought the rabbit inside because he had thought the young woman might wish to care for it, and he even made some show about not caring all that much for little animal one way or the other. But the young woman saw the way he looked a little thing with concerned eyes when he thought she wasn't looking, and saw the ill-concealed happiness there when the rabbit was finally able to run again. In that way, the young woman learned of the writer's compassion.

In their sixth month together, the young woman made some silly mistake, as she did from time to time, to which a writer responded with sharp words, as he often did on such occasions. However, the young woman was no longer cowed by his tone, instead volleying back with words of her own, though there was a smile in her eyes when she said them. For, having come to know the writer as she did, she could hear the kindness in his words, even when he spoke them harshly. In that way, the young woman learned that even the most annoying of faults could become endearing when viewed through the lens of affection.

In their seventh month together, the young woman and the writer were enjoying a quiet evening sitting by the fire when the young woman found herself thinking of all that she'd learned about the writer. She thought about the writer's bravery and loyalty, his steadfastness and kindness, his intelligence and compassion, and a great many other little things that one person comes to learn about another when they see each another and spend time together day after day. In that way, the young woman came to realize that the writer's heart, the one he had gifted to her so freely, was perhaps the truest of every one that she had met on her many travels, including even the prince's.

In their eighth month together, the young woman did not learn anything new or significant about the writer, instead discovering something taking place within the depths of her own heart. And it was something so very strange and wonderful, that the young woman found that she did not quite have the courage to speak of it yet.

Finally the first day spring arrived, and, right on its heels, the prince arrived as well, with only his beloved princess for company. Both were delighted to meet the young woman, and to learn that she had been both the duck whom the prince still counted among his closest friends, even if she had been gone for many years, and the princess who had helped the prince save his kingdom and his princess from the monster raven. "You must come back to the castle with us," the prince insisted. "The people deserve to know their hero, and it seems too terrible of a fate to have both of my dearest friends living here so far away from me."

The writer had looked away, unable to watch as the young woman whom he had given his heart to agreed to leave him, so he did not see the look in her eyes as she glanced back him. The prince and the princess did see it however, and, before the young woman was able to even begin to speak her reply, the two had resigned themselves to going without her company. "I thank you for your generous offer, my prince, but I cannot accept it. Back when I was merely a duck in your castle, listening to the troubles of the people who lived there, I heard much about the sorrow that a lost or broken heart could bring. And then when I was out journeying the wide world, I saw much of the joy that a heart full of love could bring." The writer opened his mouth, presumably to object because he believed the young woman was giving up her own desires for his sake, but she silenced him by slipping her hand in his and smiling at him with all the affection and love she had discovered in her heart. "And because of that, I have no wish to leave place and the side of the one whose heart I hold, and who holds my own heart as well."

The writer and the young woman did end up in a returning to the castle for a short time, at the prince's insistence, so that the prince could attend the wedding of the two of them. But soon after, they retreated to their little cottage by the lake, where they lived with hearts for a full of love for the rest their days.

**The End**


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